


Thinner

by apathetic_coffee



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Epic Mickey, Epic Mickey (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, Possession, Thinner Path, blot powers, mickey doin a thinner run, mickey is a villain, only as dark as a g rating will get me. its really just cartoon violence nothing too bad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:47:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22305157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/apathetic_coffee/pseuds/apathetic_coffee
Summary: Based on the near entirety of the Thinner run of Epic Mickey, where Mickey uses primarily Thinner to defeat enemies and picks the morally bad option any chance he gets... you know the drill.
Comments: 20
Kudos: 62





	1. Rocky Start

"Mickey, um-" Gremlin Gus started, his voice nearly escaping Mickey as the two of them trudged along Mickeyjunk Mountain, "perhaps you might want to put that Thinner away before we meet Oswald."

Thinner.

A very toxic liquid. Sticky. Green. Reeking of chemicals. The residents of the Wasteland knew to avoid such a substance, using it ever-so-sparingly to erase the occasional paint splotch or so.

Unfortunately, Mickey was not one of those people.

Ever since he had any other option, Mickey avoided using paint as if it were killing him. Of course, that was the farthest from the truth- the mouse had developed a hankering for Thinner, and with a flick of the left wrist, anything that crossed his path would be erased. Spatters, seers, blotlings alike, and even the Clock Tower, had fallen to the green tip of his brush. Violence had become second nature to him.

Any paint structure that caught his eye would be demolished within that very second, almost as if the bright colors of the Wasteland had irked him. Shops, houses, buildings of any size and sort, even flowers and bushes and streetlights, had all been reduced to mere wooden frames, or sometimes nothing at all, under the mouse's brush. This destruction marked the Wasteland with a hideous black mark, as every drop of Thinner spilled was absorbed into the land and sucked all of the color right out of it.

Mickey himself had become somewhat hollow, with inky purple blotches constantly rising from his figure, and sharp malice resting on his tongue. One would say, if they were paying close attention, his eyes contained a glimmer of green- a dastardly color reminiscent of the Thinner that coated his brush. He was a reclusive shell of a toon, with his eyes staring void and his posture always slumped into fighting position. He had ultimately reduced himself to a bundle of flight or fight instincts.

"Mickey?" Gus persisted once again, his voice containing a faint edge, "Did you- did you hear me?" 

The mouse didn't respond, and kept the Thinner-soaked paintbrush tightly clenched in his fist. Mickey Mouse figurines and knick-knacks crunched beneath his dusty shoes as he trudged along, and he moved unwaveringly, as if he were heading directly for a goal. As if he were glued to one path. The gremlin hovered beside him, ultimately deciding against attempting to get his attention a third time, and they proceeded in silence.

It wasn't too long before they reached the large, black palace that Oswald resided in. The exterior walls were scratched and chipped, and stepping inside didn't prove to be much of an improvement. Gold rimmed-potted plants decorated the empty floors, and the walls were plastered with Mickey Mouse posters, torn and shredded, and defiled with angry smears of red paint. A familiar looking projector marked the empty space between the winding staircases of the building, strangely vacant and unguarded.

Gus fluttered over to the projector and peered around the corner of the staircase. He vividly remembered a pair of card-toons guarding the area- at least, before Mickey fell into the Wasteland. If they were here, they'd probably test him through the peril of the projector, as they did Gus before him, and as they did Oswald before him. A lot of people had gone missing since the mouse fell. Thinking about it made the gremlin's chest grow tight.

He tried not to question it. 

Looking around seemed to escape Mickey's interest, and the mouse instead headed straight for the projector. It was rare that he left paint structures untouched and intact, so Gus concluded that he'd come back and destroy the place later. What fun....

Mickey leapt directly into the liquid screen of the projector, not pausing to wait for Gus or even check if he was coming. The gremlin hesitantly trailed behind; Mickey seemed uneasily intent on seeing Oswald, but Gus knew that if he stayed behind, the mouse would indefinitely continue on without him.

So into the projector he went.

He didn't see Mickey for the entirety of the two-dimensional segway- the mouse had a tendency to move quickly, to shamble from place to place as if he had somewhere else he needed to be. For this very reason, Gus made sure to move with speed and haste. The toon was no doubt causing trouble somewhere, and if Gus wasn't there to pick up the pieces....

The gremlin hovered through the exit projector screen upon reaching it, and was greeted to the inky darkness of Oswald's lair. Toys, posters, and merchandise galore of the iconic rabbit aligned the walls. Along with the chairs and tables and chests, seeing how many things in this room that could be thinned out made Gus a bit queasy. No sign of Mickey. Not good... 

Gus immediately sprang upwards upon feeling the sudden sensation of a hand touching his shoulder, but his chest loosened upon seeing that the hand belonged to the mouse in question. Thank the stars Mickey was here, and hadn't destroyed anything, and hadn't hurt anyone, and...

Truthfully, that shouldn't be very much to ask of a toon.

"Mickey!" Gus exclaimed, floating down to his level and examining the mouse. "Good heavens- you scared me half to death! Are you alright? Have all your Health Pips?"

Before either of them could get the chance to speak, an unfamiliar voice cut through the room.

"And who are you two? Who let you in?"

The voice belonged to Oswald himself, who spun around in his swivel throne and faced the two toons. His gaze switched between the gremlin and the mouse for a few long seconds, as if he were studying every drop of ink that made them up.

"We're--" Gus started, before being cut off by the rabbit once again.

"Listen guy, first things first: ya can't bring your Blotling in here." Oswald gestured to Mickey as he spoke, and it only took Gus a second to realize that Oswald didn't recognize the mouse. Mickey DID have an awfully close likeness to one of those inky creatures, with his blot-like drips and voracious behavior--

"My name is Mickey." Mickey spoke, his voice gravelly and hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken in days (which wasn't too far from the truth).

Oswald blinked. "Mickey. Mickey Mouse." The rabbit leapt out of his chair in a huff, his movements quick and energetic. "THE Mickey Mouse!? What the heck are you doin' showin' up here? I could cream ya right now just for walkin' around like that!"

"He's not staying long-" interjected Gus, wedging his way between the two of them, "he just wants to get home, and we thought you could help us."

"And...why would I want to help you guys?" Oswald plopped onto his seat once again and leaned against the back of it.

Gus nervously eyed the mouse before speaking. "Because- ah- you want Mickey gone, and Mickey wants to leave..." The gremlin seemed very preoccupied with the unsettling way Mickey was eyeing the room, and how strongly his attention was fixed onto the paint knick-knacks that decorated it.

Oswald gave a jaded sigh and averted his gaze, his finger unconsciously tracing the armrest of the chair. "Hmmmm... yannow, leaving would take the power of a rocket, but the one we have ain't workin', so... guess that sucks for you two, huh?" 

Before he could continue speaking, Mickey snapped the tip of his paintbrush directly beneath Oswald's chin- the Thinner-coated bristles mere inches away from the rabbit's throat. Oswald immediately grew stiff, and every bit of color drained from his face.

"H-hey, I was just- I was just kiddin'--" Oswald stammered, raising his shaky hands. He was all too familiar with how quickly the green substance could dissolve a toon, and it hadn't dawned on him until that very moment that Mickey was in possession of it.

Gus immediately waved his hands at the mouse, panic very clearly reflected on his face. Mickey seemed to get the message, and drew his brush away from Oswald's neck, but still kept the weapon tightly clenched in his fist.

"Tell us how to fix the rocket." demanded Mickey. 

Oswald took a few trembling breaths, backing his chair up a noticeable smidge.

"Okay, alright, j-just--" The rabbit gestured towards the projector on the other side of the room. "The uh- the Doc scattered the parts 'cross the Wasteland. One's in Tomorrow City, ones in Ventureland, ones in the Haunted Manor...and if you bring the parts back here in one piece we can get the rocket goin'." Oswald suppressed an insult as he spoke- as much as he wanted to sign off with a snarky remark, Mickey didn't exactly seem like the joking type.

"That seems...doable, I suppose." Gus added. His gaze shifted over to Mickey, who seemed to be blankly fixated on the projector ahead. "Let's get moving then, shall we?"

And almost as if on cue, as if the clock had started ticking down, Mickey darted towards the projector and equipped his paintbrush. He sprayed the near entirety of the lair in Thinner in his wake, vaporizing every poster and every toy, and every piece of furniture, save for the chair Oswald had been sitting on, as to not give him a running start. Mickey moved much too quickly for either Gus or Oswald to process what was happening, but once the rabbit had jumped to his feet and raced for that dastardly mouse, the toon in question had already leapt into the projector.

Oswald clawed at the screen for a few quick seconds before jolting up and bellowing a roar of frustration. He tightly grabbed Gus by his suspenders and pulled him close.

"You BETTER keep that thing on a LEASH 'fore I SNAP 'EM IN HALF!" The rabbit demanded, his tone sharp and his teeth clenched. Gus quickly nodded in cognizance, and Oswald released the gremlin's suspenders from his tight grip, allowing him to scurry towards the projector.

"I'm SERIOUS, gremlin. I'm WATCHING him."

Gus seemed to abide that warning, and quickly apologized on Mickey's behalf before heading into the projector. God knows the mouse wasn't going to do it himself.

~

"Mickey, what was that!?" Gus scolded, finally catching up to the mouse. The two of them had entered Tomorrow City, the first place Oswald had sent them to for the parts. Bright blue fluorescent spires flashed above and around them, and each step Mickey took produced a hollow, metallic clank. Rocket-like vehicles sped by them as they moved along, traversing along a wired track, but the entire area was unsettlingly quiet.

"You can't just- Oswald is the king of the Wasteland! We need him on our good side!" persisted the gremlin, as he wasn't sure where to start or what to say. Mickey stayed silent, expectedly, with the paintbrush in the grasp of his own tail. "Do you even care that he is trying to help you? Do you even care that I am trying to help you?"

Mickey paused for a second, for a split second, and contemplated on that. 

"Didn't Oswald try to kill me when I first fell here?" He finally spoke, stopping Gus in his tracks.

The gremlin blinked. He didn't have an excuse for that, but he didn't want to believe in one for Mickey, either. He continued on, trying to catch up to Mickey yet again, as he thought about how to respond.

"You don't--" Gus started, cycling through his own thoughts, "You shouldn't have to wrong the people who wronged you, Mickey. You didn't have to erase the Clock Tower, either. You had another choice."

Mickey continued on in silence. His eyes were blank and void, and he didn't seem to be processing what Gus was telling him. It wasn't Mickey's job to take everyone's licks. It wasn't his duty to sit back and make sure everything turned out alright. People who hurt him eventually get what's coming to them, whether they liked it or not. He was only acting in self-defense.

But he didn't say any of that.


	2. Small Shock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Gus head to Tomorrow City to retrieve the first rocket part.

WHAM!

A metallic screech emitted from the animatronic foe as Mickey smashed it with his paintbrush, filling the area with sparks of electricity and broken metal parts. He swung his brush at another Basher, and another, and each foe that surrounded him quickly fell to his weapon.

Tomorrow City was full of Blotlings and animatronics alike, but the latter was far more present and annoying. It didn't take Mickey long to take care of them, as he had become awfully skilled in smashing and destroying things, but they still tended to slow him down. Mickey liked moving quickly.

Once all of the animatronics in the area had been taken care of, Mickey and Gus proceeded along the chrome-paved road. The rocket-like vehicles that zipped the wire beside them had already been destroyed beneath the mouse's brush. 

It wasn't too long before the two arrived to the center of the city- arena like platforms circled a spiraling track, with box-like trams dazzled in neon lights speeding along it. The entire area was reminiscent of a space voyage, which made Mickey's chest hurt for a near second. But it was a feeling that could be ignored.

Sweepers and Seers that scattered the area seemed to immediately notice the mouse's presence. He quickly equipped his paintbrush, dousing the creatures in streams of Thinner, and jumped between the spiraling platforms to angle his attacks. Every Blotling that caught his eye was dissolved by the green tip of his brush within a short few seconds.

More and more foes fell to his weapon as he moved upwards. He could easily swipe at Sweepers with the paintbrush, but the Seers that waited below required him to spray entire doses of Thinner. He was lucky enemies didn't linger long after coming in contact with the green substance. 

Mickey paused for a second, however, his feet placed firmly upon a raised platform. His vision was spinning, and moving seemed to only make it worse. His chest was tight. It was hard to breathe. He just needed a second to breathe. 

"Mickey?" Gus asked, as he hovered over to Mickey's level. "Are you alright?"

Mickey didn't respond, but Gus noticed that more ink was rising off of the mouse's figure (more than usual, at the very least), and his breaths were deep and heavy. He decided not to comment on it.

It only took a few seconds for Mickey to recollect himself, his breaths growing shorter once again, and the Gremlin examined him from a comfortable distance to make sure he was alright. Probably just a little fit. The mouse probably moved too fast for his own good. That's what Gus told himself, anyway.

With no further input, Mickey immediately started up the spiraling platforms once again. In the distance he could see the bright red nose of a rocket. That's what would get him home. That was his top priority.

Eventually, the two reached a large disk of a platform, with a translucent blue floor that really made Mickey realize how high up he was. Before continuing on, Mickey leaned off of the edge. He could see the entire track the trams followed, with electrical currents jolting up every few seconds.

With a skilled aim of his brush, he shot a large streak of Thinner across the entire area. The awful green liquid landed on the trams and the wired track, eating away at the paint that made it up the very second it came in contact with it. Mickey watched with a sort of morbid satisfaction as the Thinner stripped the trams of their color, reducing them to wire frames, then bubbled and sizzled under the dastardly substance until there was nothing left at all. And just like that, within a few seconds, the Space Voyage was no more.

Gus' stomach churned as he peered over Mickey's shoulder and saw what had become of such a loved attraction. As much as he wanted to berate Mickey for doing such a thing, seeing how quickly the mouse could access his brush sent that thought off to the "maybe don't" category. 

And with that, the two of them continued on.

On the distant ledge of the circular platform was a towering pillar- an elevator, presumably, with a damaged fuse box sticking off the side of it. Mickey approached the fuse box and bashed it inwards with the handle of his brush. With a few sparks of electricity, the elevator slowly began to move upwards, and the two hopped inside of it before gradually picking up speed. 

As the elevator rose higher and higher up, Mickey could see what was left of Tomorrow City below. The green streaks of Thinner smeared about seemed to illuminate the almost-gray emptiness of the course, with broken animatronic parts scattered along the ground. This place was once a dizzying attraction, with pulsating bright lights running along zipping trams and colorful rockets, illuminating the nights of all who visited.

And now it was just a wasteland.

The elevator soon came to a stop just before a dazzling white staircase, and looking upwards Mickey could see nothing but colorful rays of lights. He and the gremlin began to travel along it, each step he took filling the chilling silence that accompanied them. And that's all that was left, Mickey realized. Silence.

When they reached the last few steps, Mickey could more clearly see what was ahead. It seemed like an arena, almost, with raised platforms circling the edge, and colorful beams of light dancing in the foreground. Center stage was a familiar figure, clad in fluorescent blue gadgets and technological pieces Mickey couldn't quite make out--

"Well, look who decided to show his face."

Peteronic.

"Y'know, I don't take very kindly with how you left this place, fella." The bear like foe started, raising an arm cannon. "Who do you think you are? Mickey Mouse?"

Mickey decided not to answer that.

"I mean- you left this place in shambles! My home! I only got one 'a those!" Peteronic paused on that, staring down the mouse across from him. "...I was actually just about to go hunt you down myself, but since ya showed up here anyway, you might as well get what's comin' to ya!"

Mickey instinctively equipped his Thinner-dipped brush. Time for a fight, no doubt.

"Pfft!" scoffed Peteronic. "That li'l pencil ain't got nothin' on me! I dunno if you've noticed, but--" He knocked his fist onto his metal bodyplate, producing a few metallic clanks. "...I'm all animatronic. Not a drop of toon you can erase here."

And with that, Peteronic launched a glob of Thinner Mickey's way, which caught the toon a bit off guard. Mickey was quick, however, and slipped out of the line of fire before it could come in contact with him.

Unfortunately, the green substance landed right upon the platform Mickey had been standing, and quickly ate away at the paint making it up. He hopped to the next platform over, and Gus fluttered around his head.

Before the gremlin could give him any bit of advice, another stream of Thinner cut through the air. Peteronic was quick to attack, but Mickey was quicker, and moved along the ring of platforms unscathed. Shot after shot of Thinner flew by him, dissolving each surface Mickey left behind. After a few minutes of fighting, Peteronic seemed to be getting fed up with his evasiveness, and chucked a large, blue disk Mickey's way.

Mickey knocked away the projectile with ease, boomeranging the disk right back to Peteronic. The impact seemed to faze the bear in such a way that he spun around, exposing the back of him and leaving him temporarily paralyzed. He seemed to have an opening on his upper back, most likely feeding into the two glass tanks hoisted upon his shoulders. This seemed like an opportunity.

Mickey shot a stream of Thinner directly into the fissure, partially filling one of the tanks with the green liquid. He kept going for as much time he had left (as much time he had before Peteronic came to his senses again, at least), but immediately jerked back and dropped his brush to the floor with a hollow clatter.

Headache. Splitting headache.

Mickey gave a fumbly few steps backwards, trying to ease his dizzied head. Swirls of color floated around his vision, and his chest grew tight. Streams of purple ink rapidly rose from his figure. It was familiar, albeit unpleasant feeling that stopped him in his tracks.

His thoughts were immediately cut short, however, when a heavy sensation plagued his body. For a second, for a long second, he was falling- and only the sharp impact of the hard floor against his back snapped him out of his daze. When his vision returned, he was nearing the center of the ring-shaped arena; more specifically, only a few inches away from slipping off of the lower platform and plunging into the brightly-lit abyss below. Peteronic towered over him, no longer fazed by the mouse's previous attack. The foe's arm canon was pointed directly at Mickey's face. Not good.

"Oh- thank goodness you came to your senses, Mickey!" Gus exclaimed, a sort of shaky relief in his voice as he hovered beside Mickey. "You were dazed there, for a moment, a-and Peteronic managed to--"

"Enough chit-chat." Peteronic demanded. "You lost, guy. Now, I'm givin' you a chance to scurry outta here with your little tail tucked 'tween your legs- on the grounds you NEVER come back here." He pressed the rim of his cannon against Mickey's forehead. "Or I just erase ya right now 'n do everyone a favor. Your choice, little man."

"Mickey, we-- you're not in a condition to fight," whispered Gus, "and we can find another way to get the rocket part, and we'll--"

His brush. Where was his paintbrush?

Gus' voice began to drown out as Mickey quickly darted his eyes around the area. In the distance, on a far platform, lay the Thinner-soaked brush. Too far for his reach, and too risky to attempt moving.

Okay. That's alright. He was fine. He could figure something out.

He needed a second. He just needed a second.

He could think of something.

Ink rapidly began to float off of Mickey's body, rising into the air and vanishing just above his figure. Everything around him seemed to wash away as he tried to concentrate- as he tried desperately to tap into anything that could help him right now.

And in an instant, Mickey could feel something.

It was sharp and icy pain, something quick and intense, and shot down his left arm, but he couldn't see, and he couldn't breathe, and....

When his vision returned, Peteronic was on his back, with bits of fragmented glass scattered around him. Mickey looked to his own arm. His left hand was enveloped in Thinner, almost taking the form of his palm and fingers. It didn't hurt, but it was a cold, numb sensation. He looked back to Peteronic again.

"What did I do?" Mickey asked aloud.

Gus was frozen in place, slack-jawed at the sight. Realizing that Mickey had asked him a question, he shook his head and responded.

"You-- ah, Thinner blasted from your arm, almost like-- just like--" He stopped himself, looking to Mickey. "Mickey, how did you...?"

Mickey blinked. How DID he?

Looking back at Peteronic, the mouse pondered on that. He managed to defeat someone without his brush. He managed to destroy something without his brush. 

Mickey climbed up the elevated platform Peteronic resided on. Stepping over him, Mickey retrieved the small rocket part the foe had dropped and stuck it in his back pocket. The Thinner coat had left his hand by now, and he looked to Gus.

"Get me my brush."

The gremlin hesitantly listened, carrying the paintbrush over to him. Mickey immediately snatched it away and pointed it at Peteronic. The Thinner-dipped tip was pressed directly against the control panel on his chest.

And with a single flick of the brush, Peteronic's physical form combusted into lights.

~

Tumbling through the exit projector, Mickey was greeted with the bright lights and colors of Mean Street. It was one of the few places he hadn't destroyed, save for Ostown, as he moved much to quickly through these areas to even give them the time of day. The syrupy visuals of this city made him shudder, but it was a feeling that could be suppressed.

...At least, if that cursed statue of the man and Oswald didn't so blatantly catch his attention every time he came by. 

But he lowered his head and started down the plaza, trying not to look directly at it. That statue brought up feelings he did not want to face. 

"So uh-" A familiar voice started, leaning against the monument in question and unconsciously gnawing on a carrot, "You really had it out for Tomorrow City, huh?" 

Mickey froze in his tracks and eyed the figure behind him. Oswald. 

"Yeah, I noticed!" the rabbit continued, with a sort of jaded enthusiasm reflected in his voice. "Did ya really think I wasn't watchin' you the whole time, just trashin' one of the few things the Wasteland had goin' for us? Yes, sir. Spatters better watch out for you. You like that Thinner."

What was Oswald getting out of this chit-chat? Mickey turned around and faced him, but before he could open his mouth and speak, the rabbit interrupted him once again. 

"So what was I to do, King of Wasteland?" Oswald approached Mickey as he continued his ramblings. "I know I can't take you on myself. As much as I want to, as much as I really REALLY want to-- I know how skilled you are with that brush. And you'd probably erase me without even blinkin'."

That would seem like a hard thing for Oswald to admit. 

"But I also know that if nobody stops you, you're just gonna keep goin' and goin' with this evil schitck 'a yours. I mean, I saw what you did to the Clock Tower. And I saw what you did to Peteronic. And I've seen what you've done to every little thing that crosses your path, and how you left my lair--"

Get to the point. 

"So I set up some extra muscle in Ventureland." Oswald spoke, in a rather matter-of-fact tone. "They're either gonna put you in your place or erase you trying. You thought Peteronic wouldn't go down? You ain't seen nothin'. So think about that when your off bein' an evil weirdo."

And with that, Oswald hopped into one of the projectors that circled the plaza, leaving Mickey to his thoughts. 

He then looked to Mean Street.

There was work to be done here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! one of the quotes in this one is actually from the game.


	3. Familiar Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey and Gus head to Ventureland for the second rocket part.

"Please please please please please..." mumbled Gus, quickly hovering about the two-dimensional segway in a sort of crazed hurry.

Mickey had left him in Tomorrow City upon exiting the projector.

And Mickey had left ALONE.

Terrible thoughts raced through the gremlin's mind. Mickey was at Mean Street. Alone. And the rule of thumb was that Mickey NEVER be left alone. 

He tried not to think the worst. He tried to believe Mickey would be nice, and good...but the longer he darted across these flat platforms, chasing after the mouse that destroyed Tomorrow City with a single flick of the wrist....

Well.

Only after a few long, restless minutes did Gus arrive at the exit projector. Taking a deep breath, he rushed through the liquidated screen and tumbled through the other side. He raised his head to the city that surrounded him, hoping and praying between the few seconds it took for his vision to return that Mickey had left it intact.

But oh was he dead wrong.

Mean Street had been absolutely devastated. Every house, every building, every shop that decorated these cute little streets...they had all been reduced to crumbling, Thinner-stained ruins. The air reeked of chemicals, and a black coat of grime and soot powdered what little was left.

"Oh god." Gus whispered, his stomach beginning to turn at the sight. The streetlights that illuminated the street corners were no longer there. There were no street corners. There were no streets. The concrete path below his feet was splattered in green, along with the rubble that surrounded him. The city was enveloped in a charcoal black.

Gus immediately started forward. The air was thick with fumes of paint thinner, and he could hear his non-existent heart begin to beat amidst the chilling silence that surrounded him. If he had gotten here earlier, he could have stopped Mickey. If he had been paying attention, if he had followed behind--

"Oh- jeez, what are you still doing here??"

The frantic voice of a stranger cut through Gus' thoughts. Standing before him was a dog-toon clad in a brown leather tunic and hat. Gus' chest loosened a bit upon recognizing him; it was Casey, one of the shopkeepers! And he was here, and he was okay, and Mickey hadn't--

"Hey, fella!" Casey called out, snapping his fingers before the gremlin's face in an attempt to get his attention. Gus blinked, his mind focusing back on the toon before him.

"Yes, of course, my apologies!" Gus exclaimed as he hovered close to him. "What were you saying?"

"You gotta evacuate, guy!" returned Casey. "Didn't you see that crazy mouse blotling that just came in?? If he comes back again, none of us will survive it!"

"Evacuate??" Gus gave a sharp inhale. "Where is everyone evacuating to?"

"The palace- Oswald took everyone to the palace! He's rounding up toons from all over, and if I were you, I'd go with him!"

Right. Make sure Mickey avoids Dark Beauty Castle.

"Oh-- thank you, young man!" Gus responded with a warm smile. "I'll make sure to get over there right away! And you hurry over there too!"

Of course, Gus had no plans to evacuate. He had to catch up with Mickey. But it didn't hurt to be nice. It didn't hurt to be a friend.

And off Gus went, fluttering down what was left of the winding pathway and arriving at the projector plaza. Curiously, Mickey had left the statue of Oswald and the man intact, and splotches of Thinner stained the ground around it. But he abandoned that thought as he entered the Ventureland projector.

Making his way through the two-dimensional segway and hovering out the other side, Gus frantically looked around the small town that surrounded him. Pirates and shopkeepers alike scrambled about the area and into the projector behind him, pushing and shoving and rushing for freedom. The small huts and tikis that decorated the place had been packed up, and the area was unusually empty. Everyone was evacuating.

Gus rushed beside the moving crowds of toons and approached the alcove of the town, where the icy ocean water brushed against the muddy swirl of green and red that colored the shore. A small canoe was positioned against the land, ready to take off. Gus eyed the scene for a few seconds before hearing a familiar falsetto voice behind him.

"Gus?"

The gremlin spun around. Standing amidst the powdery air was Mickey, the Thinner-coated paintbrush tightly clenched within his left fist.

"Oh, there you are!!" Gus exclaimed, approaching the mouse. "I can't believe you--"

Gus' voice cut off the second he noticed that Mickey had someone else with him- a familiar face dressed in pink, with a robotic figure that hollowed her eyes and torso. It took him a few seconds to realize that this stranger was Animatronic Daisy, her body no longer the disassembled mess of robotic limbs it once was. Had Mickey put her back together?

"Hello Gus," Daisy started, grabbing Gus' hand and delivering a firm handshake, "are you a friend of my friend here? I'm Daisy, and I'm actually looking for someone. I found this little guy over by the projector, and we're sort of helping each other out."

Gus seemed genuinely taken aback by that statement. Why was she helping Mickey? And more importantly, why would Mickey help anyone?

"Do you- um- do you know who that is...?" Gus asked her, pointing in Mickey's general direction. Daisy tilted her head before responding.

"What do you mean? He's just a little blotling."

Oh. She couldn't recognize Mickey.

"Oh- right, of course!" Gus returned with a rather relived sigh. "My mind must be somewhere else." It loosened Gus' chest to know that Mickey was helping someone, but he wasn't going to bet on this becoming a habit. "Who exactly are you looking for?"

"That's not important right now." declared Daisy. "I promised my friend here I'd get him out to the Jolly Roger before we deal with my problem. Speaking of- we should get going before we get caught in the next wave of evacuators!"

And with that, she grabbed Mickey's arm and plopped the both of them onto the rickety seats of the canoe. Gus hovered beside them and placed himself along the nose of it. The boat slowly began to move away from the shore, gradually picking up speed as it floated along the ocean surface. Water rocked at the canoe's underbelly, and the sooty air began to clear up the farther they went.

Gus looked to the two toons that sat across from him. Mickey was uncomfortably still, and the atmosphere was thick with a certain tension that Daisy didn't seem to notice. Gus tried to ease the situation with a bit of small talk.

"So, ah- Miss Daisy, where are you from?"

The animatronic casually shifted her weight backwards, taking in the view of the ocean that surrounded her. "...I actually live here, in Ventureland. But...considering what happened to Tomorrow City, and Mean Street...I don't think I'll be able to for much longer."

Before Gus could comment on that, Daisy slammed her fists onto the empty seat of the canoe, which startled everyone around her. 

"I mean, the nerve of that mouse! When I heard about Mickey, the cartoon star of the human world, all I wanted was to shake his hand. But now?" She took a deep breath before continuing. "I just want to punch that guy in the face. I wanted to be a newscaster, you know? And now I don't even know if I have a future. I don't know if any of us have a future."

Gus held his breath.

What if Mickey kept going on like this? What if he kept destroying until there was nothing left to destroy? Would anyone even know the Wasteland was gone? And what if he didn't? Who knows how long it would take for the Wastelanders to rebuild their kingdom? 

But that didn't seem to be any of Mickey's concern. The mouse leaned against the edge of the boat, resting his chin upon his upright hand. Gus couldn't even begin to comprehend what could be going through his mind as he did all of this. But the gremlin knew there was a glimmer of something good, and if he tried hard enough, he could turn Mickey around. He could make Mickey a friend. And maybe helping Daisy was a start.

The three of them continued in silence as Gus pondered on that, letting the waves below them guide the way.

It wasn't too long before the trio reached the Jolly Rodger; a truly colossal ship, with planks and ropes and canons galore. Towering above them were creamy white sails, accompanied by a winding net that shot up the center pillar of the structure. Small boats suspended in place by thick ropes surrounded the water around it, and the three narrowly approached the ship as their canoe slowed to a stop.

Mickey stepped out of the canoe and into one of the boats, and Daisy followed behind, with Gus hovering beside the both of them. The animatronic tugged on the rope beside her, and three were lifted into the air by the suspension force. Arriving at the deck of the boat, Mickey darted foward. His brush was equipped and ready to be used. 

Mickey paused, however, as he eyed the area. The deck of the ship was strangely empty. He had expected a boss, or maybe a certain swashbuckling animatronic foe...but nobody was here. Shame. He was looking foward to crushing something beneath his boot.

A sudden, sharp voice cut through the air that caused Mickey to jump.

"What is that?" Daisy demanded. The mouse turned around to face her, staying silent. "What is that? In your hand?"

Mickey looked down at the Thinner-dipped brush clenched within his left fist. Whoops.

"You're...you're Mickey." A wave of horror and realization washed across the animatronic's face. "You're Mickey Mouse!"

Well, there wasn't any hiding it now. Mickey aimed the tip of his brush towards Daisy's hollow chestplate, ready to take his shot before Gus interjected.

"Mickey!! What are you doing!?" Gus wedged himself between Daisy and the mouse. "You promised her you would help her find who she was looking for!! You can't-- you can't erase her now!!"

"This IS who I was looking for." Daisy responded in a sudden, harsh tone. "Oswald put me together. He asked for my help." She pointed at Mickey, an unwavering confidence reflecting in her voice that caught the two of them a bit off guard. "He wanted me to stop YOU."

Finally, a fight!

And with that, Mickey knocked Gus out of his way with a slash of Thinner, sending the gremlin flying backwards. Gus, wounded but alive, clutched the inky gash in his chest as he backed up against the port- his movements shaky and his breaths rapid. Daisy rushed to his side and examined him before speaking.

"It'll be okay. You'll be okay." she reassured in a quiet voice. "Just hang in there, alright? I just need a second." Daisy spun around and darted towards Mickey- before delivering him a well-deserved clock in the jaw. Her fists were cold, and solid; not like an attack from a toon. She could hit, and she hit hard.

Mickey was dazed for a few seconds, and didn't come to quick enough to avoid Daisy's next attack. She striked his nose with her clenched fist before throwing another punch, then another, then pinned his arms behind his back and slammed him against the central pillar. Mickey instinctively pushed her away, shooting a stream of Thinner directly at her face.

When the Thinner washed away, however, Mickey was shocked to see that she was unfazed. The color had stripped away from her metal faceplate, leaving it a haunting metallic gray- but the attack hadn't harmed her otherwise. Mickey was taken aback long enough for the animatronic to deliver another blow to his torso with her robotic knee.

"Yeah, that's one of the perks of being animatronic!" She taunted, kicking him while he was doubled over. "Guess that Thinner isn't so handy now, huh?"

At least when he was fighting Peteronic, he could fill his tanks up with Thinner. At least he had some sort of advantage. But Daisy was the first foe he had faced that wasn't vulnerable to the tip of his brush. And that was terrifying.

But Mickey swallowed his pride and threw a punch Daisy's way. If he had to use his fists, he sure as heck would hit hard. He managed to strike her beak, bending it upward with the direction of his blow. Daisy returned by shoving him towards the port, and his back slammed against the wooden door with a sharp thud. Before he could even think of what to do next, the animatronic smashed his head against the wooden frame. Golly was she fast.

Mickey knocked her back with a firm kick of his boot, and that seemed to catch her off guard long enough for him to strike once again. He kept her away with alternating kicks, and attempted to throw a punch her direction-- before Daisy caught it within her fist and flipped him onto his back. The floor of the deck was hard, and even harder when it was being slammed against him. Mickey needed a breath, but he needed a plan even more.

He only had a second to eye his surroundings before Daisy stomped on his torso, to which he quickly grabbed ahold of her foot and flung her away. A plan, a plan. He needed a plan. He managed to scramble up, but god did it hurt to move. Every ounce of his body ached. But he had to keep going. He had a job to do.

Mickey rushed to the edge of the ship and peered around for anything that could help him, until the realization hit him like a bag of bricks. He was surrounded by water. Daisy was a robot. He only had a few seconds to congratulate himself on that revelation before the animatronic in question shoved him from behind, causing the mouse to tumble off the ship. Mickey fell for a long second before digging his fingers into an indentation along the side of the structure. If he could lure Daisy to the edge, he could push her into the water. He just needed a way to knock her back.

Mickey climbed back onto the deck of the ship, his feet firm and grounded. With a blind swing, he buffed Daisy away with his arm and slipped out of her sight. As much as he wanted to, as much as he really wanted to, he didn't have enough energy to retaliate any hits from her. All he could do was block and hope that sufficed.

Daisy darted after him, and he managed to lead the animatronic to the edge of the ship before she once again gained the upper hand. She clocked his face with both fists; the left one bashing his jaw and the right one striking the side of his face. The mouse stumbled backwards in a daze.

"Had enough?" Daisy taunted. "Cause I sure haven't!" She knocked him back, causing Mickey to tumble back onto the plank that extended from the ship. She slowly approached him and placed her robotic foot onto his torso.

"You know, you may be able to pack a punch, even without that brush of yours, but..." Daisy flashed him a confident smile. "I'm fighting for the sake of the Wasteland. For the sake of every single life you ruined."

She leaned close to his face, speaking in a harsh whisper. "And you're fighting for nothing."

Mickey wasn't sure why, but that comment ignited something within him. A stir of rage and grandeur sparked a jolt of energy within him, and he grabbed Daisy by the foot before flipping her onto the plank. The ocean waves crashed far below the two of them. Daisy shot him an upward glance.

"Guess you got me."

He still had ahold of her foot, and at any moment he could throw her into the endless sea below. Instead, he lingered in that pose, waiting for her to speak once again.

"You know..." she continued, glaring at him. "Wastelanders are stronger than you think. We've been through EVERYTHING. We could face the Blot and win through sheer willpower alone. If you think for a second- for a SINGLE second that you've backed us up into a corner, let me tell you something."

Daisy leaned in close.

"We can destroy walls."

Mickey pushed her away, and with that, the plank finally snapped beneath the weight of both of them. The two plunged into the icy ocean water below, sending chills up Mickey's spine as his body submerged beneath the surface. Through the sooty water, Mickey could see a spark. Then another. And when he poked his head above the water, gasping for air, Daisy was no longer there.

And he knew he had won.


	4. Empty Mansion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey heads to the Lonesome Manor for the third and final rocket part.

Oswald leaned backwards in his chair and nervously ran his fingers along his ears. Surrounding him were cracked and chipped paintings, drained of their color, displaying fragments of Ortensia, and flowers, and fireworks. These things usually brought comfort to the rabbit, but as he sat amidst this gallery of colorful memories...all he could imagine was them in pieces, scattered along the Thinner-stained floor.

God, what was he going to do? He had ruled the Wasteland for centuries, and now that his people were on their knees and begging for help...all he could do was hide them. Evacuation was his only plan. Mean Street was destroyed. Tomorrow city was in shambles. Ventureland was carried away with its people. Mickey's horrid streaks of Thinner even marked the palace walls and floors he resided within at this very moment. If Mickey came back here, to Dark Beauty Castle, what would Oswald do? And if he didn't, and left the Wasteland like this, how would Oswald rebuild his kingdom?

...Why did Mickey have to make everything so difficult for him?

A sudden voice cut through his thoughts, however- hoarse, and sharp, and in an almost gasping voice that caused Oswald to turn his head immediately.

"Oswald..." Gus spoke, clutching his wounded chest as he hovered at the end of the hall. Oswald's face went pale (paler than his usual white, at least), and he quickly hopped from his seat and rushed to the gremlin's side. Before he could even begin to speak, however, Gus interrupted him once again.

"Oswald, he- I- I tried to talk to him, I thought he could be better, I actually believed he-" His voice came to an abrupt stop, and he seemed to be choking on his words. The gremlin then buried his head into Oswald's chest, tears flowing from his eyes, and Oswald knew all too well what had happened.

"Why did I believe in him...??" Gus asked, between a few shaky sobs.

Seeing Gus like this tore at Oswald's heartstrings. The rabbit wasn't great with emotions, but betrayal was a feeling he was all too familiar with.

"Gus, Gus, it's okay. It ain't your fault." He spoke in a soft voice and wrapped his arms around the gremlin in a comforting hug. Huh. He hadn't hugged anyone in a while.

"Look-" the rabbit continued, "First things first, I-I need ya to get yourself fixed up, alright? We got a few toons in the main hall who can patch up that gash 'a yours, but in the meantime..."

His voice trailed off, and Gus looked up at him through a vision of tears. Oswald took a deep breath before continuing.

"I promise you that Mickey will become good. I promise you he will do better. It may not be you, and it may have not been Daisy, but...if it has to be me, I will turn that mouse around. Okay?"

Oh god, why did he say that?

"Thank you." Gus suddenly responded in a shaky whisper, pulling the rabbit into a tight embrace.

Oh.

That was why.

~

Everything hurt.

From his face to his limbs to the very tips of his fingers, every inch of Mickey's body ached. Daisy had roughed him up pretty bad. As he limped along this winding forest trail, however, a sort of morbid pride swirled within him. 

He thought about what Daisy told him- how she was fighting for every single soul that fell to the tip of Mickey's brush, and every toon he left in tears because of it. He thought about how he had fought the very last fiery ember of this kingdom and WON.

And he felt...triumphant.

Mickey had found the rocket part before he left Ventureland, as well, and stuffed into the hammerspace that was his back pocket. Curiously, the part had been neatly tucked away in one of the cabin rooms- and not attached to the boss that should have been waiting for him once he arrived.

He had almost forgotten to grab it in the heat of the battle, but a nagging voice within his head reminded him that he couldn't go home without the parts he was looking for. He wasn't sure why, but the longer he stayed in the Wasteland, the more desperately he wanted out. It was almost as if something was pushing him to keep going; an imaginary force that kept him on this direct path.

Something that wanted freedom.

But he had a job to do, and right now, that job was finding the last rocket part. It hadn't occurred to him until he started towards the Lonesome Manor that Gus was no longer following him around like the obedient lapdog he was, but that didn't prove to be much of a setback. The gremlin's usefulness didn't go far beyond offering directions or instructions. Not to mention he had a certain...emotional attachment to Mickey that made him more of a liability than he needed to be.

...God, did walking hurt.

It only took Mickey a second to notice the little Spatter that crossed his path, as well as the even smaller ones that followed behind it. Instinctively, Mickey equipped his paintbrush and doused the things in Thinner, watching as the substance sizzled and seared away at the creatures until they were nothing but goopy puddles of black ink. It was fascinating to see how quick Thinner could reduce a living and breathing toon to a mere splotch on the ground. Sometimes Thinner didn't work right away, and sometimes it melted a toon long after they had been struck- but sooner or later, they always fell apart. It was an interesting sight.

Mickey continued on, paintbrush still in hand, as he stumbled his way up the rickety porch steps of the manor. The building towered over him, and the exterior walls were coated in a chipped black paint. Before him were a large pair of double doors. Instead of entering, however, the mouse sprayed the front of the structure in a layer of Thinner, eating away at what little of the building was left until it had been stripped of any recognizable features at all. Wet paint streamed down the wall and bled into the murky ground below his feet. Now he could proceed.

With a loud, echoing creak, Mickey slowly pushed the doors open, and a single ray of light from the outside illuminated his way in. The entrance seemed to feed into some sort of library. Colorful bookcases and ottomans surrounded him, and a crystal chandelier hung far above his head. Before he could continue, however, an unfamiliar voice cut through the silence.

"Well well well well well well well. Look who it is."

Near the far end of the room, upon a small podium of her own, rested the petite head of a woman encased within a crystal ball. It was a face Mickey could hardly recognize.

"Oh, don't strain that wrist of yours trying to thin me out. I can't really move now, can I?" She spoke with a sort of jaded dissatisfaction, and it took Mickey a moment to realize that the woman was Madame Leona. He wasn't completely sure how he could recogn--

"You know, you've made quite an ugly little name for yourself here in the a Wasteland."

Oh. She was interrupting his thoughts now. Wonderful.

"When I heard that Mickey Mouse had begun destroying our cities and massacring our people, I didn't believe it. I mean, you look more like a blotling than anything else, right? At least actual rats don't destroy my library."

Mickey paused and looked over at her.

"Isn't that what you're here for? To destroy my home and leave? You ARE Mickey Mouse."

Mickey pondered on that for a second, peering around at the towering library of dusty novels and loose papers that surrounded him. He then looked back to the woman across his view.

"I'm looking for a rocket part." he finally spoke.

"Yes, well, I'm afraid this isn't a warehouse." Leona responded with a roll of the eyes. "And I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm not particularly fond of you."

Right. So it probably wasn't here. With a flick of his left wrist, a bright layer of Thinner emerged from the the tip of his brush and coated the neat array of bookcases around him. Within a few short seconds, the colorful paint that made them up began to strip away until there was nothing left at all, and the library he was standing amidst had become an empty room. Mickey then proceeded up the podium steps without giving Leona a passing glance.

"Yes, well, I don't know what much else I expected from you." she hissed. "Don't hit the door on the way out."

And with that, Mickey pulled down the extendable staircase that was neatly placed along the back wall. With a tottering clatter, the ramshackle steps unfolded to the floor below his feet, leading up to the attic just above him. He then proceeded upwards.

The attic was dark and thick with dust, and each creaking step he took filled the chilling silence around him. He continued forward for a few pained seconds before a blinding light flashed before his vision. When he opened his eyes, he was surrounded by machinery, muted of their color and lights, trailing towards a raised stage. The floor was covered in puddles of Thinner that ran along a dusty train track. Amidst the smoke, Mickey spotted a familiar face.

The Mad Doctor.

The man seemed cheerful- almost elated to see Mickey, and before the mouse could even equip his brush the Mad Doctor had already rushed to his side.

"Oh- you're here! You're actually here!" The Doc exclaimed, examining the mouse's arms and hands and fingertips. Mickey couldn't help but notice how shaky the man's movements were, as if he were filled with an uncontrollable excitement. Was there something Mickey wasn't getting here?

"I can't believe it's really you! I must not have recognized you back at the palace, but when I heard of your...exploits around here, I did my best to help you!" The Doctor excitedly made his way to a nearby machine, covered in bolts and rust and foreign devices Mickey couldn't quite make out. He did notice, however, a lifeless animatronic figure leaning against it, with strangely familiar clothing a certain pirate would wear...

"It's Hook!" The Doc continued, as he dragged the animatronic out and into Mickey's view. Its body was still and its eyes were lifeless. "Animatronic Hook, specifically! He was going to fight you back in Ventureland, but I deactivated him for you!" He spoke as if he were desperately grasping for Mickey's approval. It wasn't a comforting feeling. "See, I-I can be of service to you, sire! I can help!"

Sire?

"Who do you think I am?" asked Mickey, finally deciding to catch himself up in all of this. 

The Mad Doctor blinked. A long moment of silence lingered between the two. "...You're the Shadow Blot, aren't you?"

What!?

"I-- what!?" Mickey exclaimed in a squeaky falsetto. His voice hadn't been used for such emotion in a long while. "I-I-I'm Mickey!! I'm Mickey Mouse!!"

"Well, I mean--" The Mad Doctor came close to Mickey, thoroughly examining his muted, green eyes before continuing. "This may be the body of Mickey Mouse, but I can see through that, I assure you."

"I'm NOT the Blot!!" demanded Mickey, his weapon sharply pointed towards the man's face.

The Doctor tensed up upon seeing the bright green substance that coated the end of his brush. "N-no need to get so defensive, sire...! You have to admit that you DO have rather...Blot-like qualities, what with your inky form, and those eyes, and that...attachment to your brush, I just--" He stopped himself upon seeing the piercing glare of the mouse below him.

"...I-I just want you to know that I HAVE been keeping up my end of the deal," The Mad Doctor started up again, to no comment from Mickey, "and I've been amply doing my part around the Wasteland to help you! I've removed roadblocks from your path, I've deactivated rides, I've taken care of bosses for you-- I-I even know that Oswald evacuated everyone to Dark Beauty Castle!"

Interesting.

"And when you leave, I'll get control of the Wasteland, right? Like you promised?" Before Mickey could answer, the Mad Doctor dropped to the mouse's level, speaking in a sort of crazed desperation. "I-I live to serve you, sire! Anything you need me to do, I will!"

The way this man worshipped him was...unsettling, to say the least, but his obedience could prove to be useful. For the moment.

"I need a rocket part." Mickey spoke, his voice returning to its usual monotone.

"Of course! Of course!" The Mad Doctor rose to his feet once again. "Luckily for you, I have one stashed around here. Come! Follow me!" The Doctor started along the train track that trailed below him, and his boots clattered along the wooden floor with each step. Mickey promptly followed suit. 

And two walked in silence for a few lingering moments. It was a bit unsettling how...attached the Mad Doctor was to Mickey-- to the Blot, and he couldn't help but wonder if the Doc's erratic ways were because of just that. He spoke something of usurping the Wasteland throne after Mickey left. But upholding some imaginary deal with this man was not at the top of Mickey's priority list. He was not the Blot.

"You know- I do have a question, sire." That name the Doctor kept calling him was off-putting, to say the least, but Mickey kept his mouth shut and listened. "How did you manage to escape the Jug? I'm in no way questioning your strength, but...if you were trapped in it for so many years, and you could just leave, why didn't you?"

Before Mickey could answer, the Mad Doctor cut him off again, a single finger raised from his hand. "Wait. It's that mouse, isn't it? You must have been drawn to the mouse's Heart."

That statement made Mickey's blood go cold, and he brought his hand to his chest and clutched the beating Heart within him. He could feel each rotten pang the organ made. It hadn't occurred to him that the Blot could cling to his Heart, but each beat it made slowly made the mouse more and more unsure of himself. It was an ugly feeling.

"That's one thing we have alike, sire. Unlike these other toons, we'll stop at nothing to get what we want! We won't quit until the job is done!"

The Mad Doctor stopped at an indentation in the tracks. He knelt to the floor level and pulled up one of the wooden boards that made it up, revealing a small alcove below. Beneath Mickey's feet was the rocket part, rusted and dusted by the test of time, and the Doctor reached into the alcove and pulled it out. With a polite pass of the object to Mickey, the Mad Doctor rose to his feet again.

Silence filled a few long seconds between the two before Mickey spoke again.

"My job isn't done yet."

The Mad Doctor's face went pale upon seeing the mouse reach for his paintbrush. "Haha, what-- w-what are you talking about, sire?" His eyes were glued to the mouse below him, the Thinner-dipped brush clenched tightly in Mickey's left fist. He knew all too well where this was going.

Mickey took a step forward. The Doctor took a step back.

And gradually, Mickey began to walk towards the Mad Doctor, causing the man to stumble backwards, scrambling on his hands and feet in an attempt to escape Mickey's path. The mouse had sustained injuries from the fight at Ventureland, but moved just quick enough to stomp his foot atop the nose of the Doctor's boot.

"Wait!! Please, please, you can't-- you can't do this to me!! I-I'm your prophet!! I-I-I've done EVERYTHING for you!!"

He spoke in a pleading, desperate voice, hoping and praying that the mouse would spare him. Hoping and praying that he would listen.

But the last thing the Doctor would ever see was the green tip of Mickey's brush pressed against his chest.


	5. Stained Glass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mickey heads to Dark Beauty Castle to collect the rocket blueprints from Oswald.

Headaches.

Mickey had gotten used to them by now, but that didn't mean they were ever less persistent or annoying.

As he walked through Ostown, the bright, cutesy colors of the buildings and flowers only made the pounding within his head worse. Unfortunately, the projectors at Mean Street had been closed down, and his only hope for getting to Dark Beauty Castle in one piece was to scrounge through this little city in search for one.

But god did his head hurt. And searching was getting tiresome. In a fit of frustration, he smashed his fist against the wall of a wooden house, and it cracked upon impact. Felt good. Felt exhilarating.

Equipping his paintbrush, he began to douse the town around him in a layer of Thinner. The green liquid quickly ate away at the shops and houses and streetlights, and even the colorful flowers beneath his feet. Everyone in the town had already evacuated, so there were no pesky little pedestrians in his way scrambling for safety. The town was flooded in destruction, and within a few short minutes, there was nothing left of it but crumbled ruin streaked in Thinner.

Mickey approached the last drop of color in the area- a rose, bright and soft and healthy. Placing the heel of his shoe above the plant, he then crushed it beneath his foot with a satisfying crunch.

But he still wasn't satisfied.

High exposure to Thinner did dangerous things to a cartoon. Not only was the inhalation of chemicals harmful to the body, but it slowly stripped away the energy and vibrance of toons until they were nothing but hollow shells. Mickey seemed to take notice of this, as catching a reflection of himself amidst the fragments of glass below him revealed the mouse to be almost melting, with ink dripping down his arms and legs, and leaving bare, white splotches in its wake.

Not to mention the sharp change in mood. Someone who was once the bright, cheery high point of someone else's day was now bitter and robotic, with vengeful angst weighing on his heart. No wonder nobody here could recognize him.

But there was no use crying over spilt milk.

And so he continued on, marching through the fresh Thinner stained ruins and towards the object that stuck out from the dust and rubble: the projector. With a leap forward, the mouse submerged into the liquid screen.

After a few minutes, Mickey tumbled out of the exit projector and opened his eyes to a crowd of toons. His vision quickly adjusted to the sudden darkness, and it only took him a moment to realize he had landed right into the hiding spot of the Wastelanders. Dark Beauty Castle, no doubt, with thick pillars aligning the dark walls around him. 

Screams rang out. Toons scrambled out of his path, tripping and shoving and racing for safety. Amidst the chaos, Mickey could hear the Blot's name being thrown around the passing calls of evacuators, and it only became more prominent with each passing second. Desperate shouts of "the Blot" this and "the Blot" that prompted Mickey to equip his paintbrush.

Spraying Thinner in his wake, Mickey terrorized the fleeing toons that surrounded him. He only wanted them out of his way, but didn't sulk on the fact that he managed to graze the passing few that tumbled before his path. They shouldn't have gotten in his way anyways.

Mickey's movements froze, however, as he noticed a familiar face among the crowd. His eyes met with Oswald's, and the rabbit's ears dropped the second he caught sight of Mickey. For the short moment the two made eye contact, Oswald looked upon the mouse with horror- a sort of twisted, terrified look that made it seem as if Oswald were remembering a million rotten things at once. But the world began to move again, and the second the rabbit came back to reality, he took off.

And, brush in hand, Mickey chased after him.

He began to shove scattering toons from his way as he trailed behind the rabbit. His path was locked directly onto Oswald, and with each passing second he only came closer to swiping him with a glob of Thinner. It wasn't long before Oswald bumped into a dead-end, and his hands desperately frisked along the wall in denial.

As Mickey came closer and closer to the rabbit, watching as Oswald pressed his back against the wall with heavy breaths, he couldn't help but notice that in Oswald's hand was a small remote- something that he didn't notice before. The rabbit seemed to be struggling with the device. He frantically fidgeted with the center button, pressing and smashing and bashing it for any kind of response, and Mickey could hear him desperately mumbling "oh god, please work" over and over again in a sort of terrified, shaky voice he had never heard before.

And as Mickey came closer and closer, so close his fingertips nearly grazed the rabbit, he was immediately met with an instant, searing pain. After a few seconds of watching his own body convulse, Mickey dropped to the floor with a hard thud. He could see Oswald above him through dizzied vision. The end of the rabbit's remote was pointed directly at his face.

A few long seconds passed between the two of them. Mickey's entire body was stiff and paralyzed, and it only took him a moment to realize that Oswald had electrocuted him. The rabbit in question leaned against the wall behind him with trembling movements.

"Oswald! Oh my stars, Oswald!" Mickey could hear Gus' voice from above. "Are you--" The Gremlin's voice cut off with a sharp breath.

"I-is that--" Gus started again in a whisper.

"Yes," he heard Oswald respond, his voice shaky, "yes, it's Mickey. Gus, you-- you HAVE to go, right now, right now, get EVERYONE out."

"But he's-- he's...h-hurt." The gremlin's voice was filled with hesitance, as if the only thing he wanted in that moment was to help the mouse that lied before him. But Oswald was quick to cut him off once again.

"GUS."

The gremlin seemed to comply at that moment. Mickey couldn't hear Gus' voice anymore, but he did see a crowd of trampling toons rush by him and off to safety. God, if only he could move! If he could only grab his brush, he would--

His brush-!

Mickey's heart dropped upon noticing that his paintbrush was nowhere in sight. Looking up at Oswald, he could see the Thinner-dipped brush tightly placed within the rabbit's hands. And in a second, Mickey watched as Oswald busted the brush in half with a clean snap.

Mickey immediately felt an intense, throbbing pain in his chest, as if it were his own Heart that Oswald had just tore in half. But that was the farthest from the case- in fact, Mickey could feel his heart pounding within his body, faster and faster by the second, as a surge of energy jolted the mouse upwards.

He hadn't the strength to stand up on his own, but what little rigor Mickey had, he used to desperately swipe at Oswald in a fit of searing anger. His hands no longer looked like his own-- instead, they had become jagged claws, with fingers like talons; and even the paint making them up had sizzled and melted away. His fingers and hands and arms had been reduced to nothing but a bare white outline.

The mouse immediately retracted upon noticing this. He couldn't help but stare, his eyes glued to his own trembling mess of a hand. His vision then darted back to Oswald, who had still been leaning against the wall with wide eyes and shaky breaths, his remote still pointed towards the mouse. But shocking Mickey again wouldn't work, and both of them knew that.

A long pause lingered between the two. With every second Oswald hoped and prayed that Mickey wouldn't attack him, and to his surprise...the mouse did nothing. Here Oswald was, cornered and unable to attack...yet, Mickey stood still.

After a long moment of silence, Mickey finally spoke.

"Am I the Blot?"

Oswald froze. He seemed genuinely taken aback by that question, and his eyebrows furrowed with perplexity. 

"Uh...?"

"Am I the Blot!?" demanded the mouse once again.

Oswald's shoulders stiffened, and he swallowed hard.

"You uh...y-you didn't....already know...??" He responded, somewhat afraid to.

Mickey went silent. The Mad Doctor was right. This Heart that beat within his chest was not his own. These hands that brought violence and destruction to so many that needed mercy...did not even belong to him. His mind went blank, and in that moment, the world seemed to wash away with the rotten thoughts that accompanied his mind.

Had the Blot vanquished Peteronic with its own hand? Had the Blot fought against the odds to overcome Daisy? Had the Blot pushed that Doctor to the floor and terrorized to him to the very last trembling breath he took?

Had the Blot been here the entire time, pushing him along this vile path? 

He pondered on that for a moment, but only for a moment. No matter what, he would go through with this. The Wasteland would get what it deserved. 

Mickey had a job to do.

And with that, the world returned to him once again. His heart beat with an awful hunger, filling every ounce of his body with a need for destruction. He felt...whole. His hands were coated in a bright layer of Thinner, yet his body no longer dripped with ink.

His vision shifted before him. The spot Oswald had been situated in was now empty, and looking around, Mickey realized that he was completely alone. The rabbit must have scurried off like the scared little milksop he was. 

Mickey slowly pushed himself off of the dusty floor and turned his head to the violet-tinged walls around him. He could much more clearly notice the towering pillars aligning the hall, trailing upwards to the balconies above, as faded twilight flood through the stained-glass windows and illuminated his way. Not very many places Oswald could hide.

Mickey took a few steps forward. The clicking of his shoes against the concrete floor echoed through the hall. And as he stopped, amidst the silence, Mickey could hear the pitter patter of feet that were not his own. 

"You can't hide forever..." Mickey taunted, a sort of twisted amusement in his voice. Stopping at a towering display of colored-glass, Mickey's figure reflected back at him. Ink no longer appeared to be rising off of his body, or melting down his arms and legs, and his colors seemed to have muted to a sharp contrast of void black and snow white. Even his shorts had faded to a dull, dusty purple. The only splash of color from the toon's figure came from his eyes- a horrid, bright green, the color of Thinner, that shone through the shadows casted upon his face. 

The look of a scrapper, no doubt.

And again, he could hear it: the tapping of feet against the hard, stone floor. His head whipped around and his eyes darted the area, but the rabbit was nowhere in sight.

In a second, a split second, an instant jolt of familiar pain overcame his body, sending him into a shaky convulsion that paralyzed his every movement. Electrocution. Once the sensation stopped, Mickey quickly peered around him. His fur was singed and black, but toons were durable. He would survive.

"I don't really understand your whole plan here." Oswald's voice echoed, coming from an unseeable source that sent Mickey into frantic scrutinization. Where was he?

"And uh, I don't really want to. But I kinda promised someone that I'd put you back on the straight and narrow, so I--"

Mickey swiped his Thinner-coated hand at a nearby pillar, causing the structure to tumble with a loud crash that cut the rabbit off mid-sentence. Once the commotion died down, Oswald called out at him once again.

"Jeez, what is your deal!? I never interrupted you like that!!"

"Get down here and fight me, you coward!!" returned Mickey. His voice amply overpowered Oswald's.

"Uh, no, actually!! I don't think I will!!" Oswald called back. "You're kinda terrifyin' and would probably kill me!!"

"So, what? You expect me to come look for you?"

A long pause lingered between the two before Oswald spoke again.

"Yeah."

Mickey gave a sharp glare upwards. The worst Oswald could really do was shock him with that pathetic little remote of his, but having to play the rabbit's game was annoying nonetheless. Mickey started down the hall and approached the winding staircase that trailed up the back wall. Each step he took cut through the chilling silence that filled the room.

As he trudged up the staircase, his eyes darted back and forth. Oswald could come up from anywhere and electrocute him again, which was irritating in and of itself. He stopped upon reaching the raised overhead balcony that stretched along the walls and fed into the main hall.

"So anyway, as I was sayin'..."

Mickey could hear Oswald's voice, but still no sign of him.

"I don't really see the appeal of this whole evil shtick ya got goin' on. I mean, the Wastelanders tried to be nothin' but nice to you. What's your deal?"

Mickey stayed silent as he trudged the balcony, peering around every corner and pillar.

"Do you really hate us that much?" Hesitation filled the rabbit's voice for a moment before he spoke again. "No, that can't be it. Whatever you got goin' on here...it don't even have anything to do with us, does it?"

What was Oswald going on about?

"No, no...you're doin' this 'cause you feel like you HAVE to. 'Cause you feel like we've backed you up into a corner, and all 'a this is just in self defense. Is that right? Am I in the ballpark?"

Mickey did not respond.

"Lemme tell you somethin'. I know how it feels to want that-- to wanna get back at the people who hurt you. I know. Pretendin' like it don't bother you...is hard."

The mouse held his breath.

"But what if...what if I gave you a chance? What if I didn't try to hurt you...? Would it be self-defense then?"

....

"We could start over. We could rebuild the Wasteland, forget this ever happened. I know the real world is stressful, and hard, but....you could stay here. We wouldn't try to hurt you. I wouldn't try to hurt you. We could...we could be your family."

Mickey's ears twined. This offer brought about an indescribable feeling that couldn't be conveyed with a million words.

"I could be your brother." Oswald spoke.

A long silence lingered within the thick atmosphere surrounding him. And immediately, Mickey rammed his Thinner-coated fist into a pillar, causing it to crumble into ruin upon a few seconds of impact. 

"I don't WANT your PITY!!" Mickey hissed.

Oswald did not respond.

And nearly a second later, Mickey felt the annoying, scorching sensation of electrocution fill his body once again. But this time, once he had regained his mobility, Mickey spun around as quick as he could. Within his vision was the shadowed figure of the rabbit, and Mickey clamped his hand onto the toon's arm, delivering a blistering sizzle the very second his Thinner-covered fingertips came in contact with Oswald's fur.

The rabbit cried out as he felt the Thinner eat away at his arm, but acted quick enough to push Mickey away. He delivered another zap to the mouse before him from with the remote tightly grasped within his hands.

Mickey gave everything to power through the force of the shock. With convulsing movements, he blasted a shot of Thinner from his hand in the rabbit's direction. His vision was spinning, but judging by the sound of the toppling structure behind him, Oswald had dodged the attack.

"The offer still stands," Oswald spoke with heavy breaths, "and if you really want to--"

Mickey swiped at him again, to which the rabbit narrowly avoided. 

"Hey, cut that out!!" demanded Oswald. "I'm REALLY stretchin' my neck out for ya here!!"

Mickey lunged at the rabbit, clawing vigorously, as Oswald used every ounce of strength he had to hold the mouse back. Each swipe he took came awfully close to Oswald's face.

Beads of nervous sweat ran down the side of the rabbit's head as he tried to speak.

"C'mon, ya don't gotta keep this up!! W-we're here for ya, fella!!"

Mickey did not listen, but he wished he had, for the second the scrapper had let his guard down, Oswald's fist slipped from his grasp and clocked the mouse square in the face. Mickey stumbled backwards, disoriented and dizzy. Before he could regain his balance, Oswald returned with a hard zap from his remote. 

Once Mickey had grounded his spinning vision, the shock wearing off, he leapt for the toon before him. Oswald responded by grabbing his arm and flipping the mouse on his side. Mickey acted quick, however, and sprang to his feet the very second he could, delivering a quick slash of Thinner in the rabbit's direction.

Oswald could feel a piece of his body dissolve under the searing heat of the substance, but grit his teeth and powered through it. He was resilient. Unfortunately, Mickey could say the same for himself. With a quick swing of his remote, Oswald struck the side of his foe's face with a hard wack. The attack was weak but disorienting, and caused Mickey's vision to spin.

"Listen mouse, or WHOEVER you are, I ain't just gonna sit here 'n let you have your way." Oswald spoke, not an inch close to cracking, "so either two things are gonna happen here: I'm gonna change your mind or kill you trying."

Mickey glared at him, recollecting his own breaths.

"The second ya decide ya don't want to fight anymore, I'll stop, and we can put an end to all 'a this. Or-- and I don't really recommend this one, mouse-- you keep fighting til I end you myself."

The latter seemed far more interesting.

Mickey darted forward, slashing his enemy square in the chest with a streak of Thinner- leaving an inky gash upon Oswald's chest.

"Huh. Well, offer still stands." Oswald spoke, clutching his wound and speaking through sharp breaths. "But ya sure won't like what happens when I--"

Mickey cut him off with a quick uppercut of Thinner, of which Oswald immediately dodged.

"Okay, yannow what? You're kinda gettin' on my nerves. Do ya know how rad it woulda been had I finished what I was gonna say and then attacked you?" Mickey went silent, and the rabbit gave him a piercing glare. "Yeah, well now I ain't gonna do it. You don't deserve to hear whatever cool line I was gonna say. Yeah. Bet you're sorry now."

Mickey blinked, and before he could react, Oswald disconnected his own floppy ear from his head and socked the mouse across the face with it. And god, was it a hard blow. Mickey's vision blanked for a clear second before he came to, but he immediately snatched his chance to return with a high kick to Oswald's face.

The rabbit took a second to reorient himself. His head spun, and a stream of ink bled from his now injured nose. He wiped his hand across his lip and examined the black paint that stained his fingertips. 

A long pause lingered between them.

And in an instant, the rabbit leapt for the mouse before him, knocking him to the ground as the two entered a tumble of petty slaps and punches. The toons were tired and dizzy, and their hits were weak, but the sheer stubbornness of both the scrapper and his foe fueled a slew of kicks, and scratches, and slaps, that came oh so close to burning the two of them out.

And the brothers persisted for a long few minutes. Every punch that socked the rabbit's face was returned with a kick to the mouse's torso, and so on, and so forth, each toon in their own right squabbling for every hit they could land. 

But it didn't take much too long for the hits to slow, and the toons to tire out. It didn't take much too long for their wills to break. 

And so Oswald pulled back, as did Mickey, each toon taking deep and frantic breaths in a desperate attempt to recollect themselves. But both boys knew that the fight would not continue.

Oswald could see a flicker of hesitance in Mickey's eyes-- a sort of desperate, guilty look, and the rabbit knew that this was his chance. With a shaky inhale, Oswald decided to speak.

"This...this ain't gonna end, yannow. Not like this."

Mickey stayed silent.

"Ya ain't gonna beat me, and...I ain't gonna beat you. We shouldn't fight. We can't fight."

Another second of silence.

"But, yannow, it's kinda funny..." the rabbit took a deep breath, hesitating for a few seconds before continuing. "...I hated you before you came here. Hated you with every fiber of my body. And when you started destroying my cities, and my people, and my kingdom, all I wanted was to wring your neck in my fist."

Mickey felt something...heavy. A feeling he couldn't yet describe.

"...But now? I just feel...kinda sorry for ya." He took a deep breath as he pondered on how to phrase that. " I...I feel sorry that you felt your only way outta here was to retaliate. That all you could really do was fight back."

Mickey felt...guilt. It was a heavy, terrible feeling, that knotted and twisted his insides like a wet rag. It was a feeling that came oh so close to filling his eyes with tears.

"Yeah. I know the feeling, fella." Oswald continued, as if he and Mickey shared the same beating Heart. "So. Here's what we're gonna do here."

Mickey jerked back a bit upon seeing Oswald move his arm. The rabbit's hand was extended out to him, almost as if offering a handshake.

"I...I won't attack you." Oswald spoke in a shaky voice. "I won't even try. I-if...if you're really tellin' the truth, 'n...'n you're only hurtin' people because they hurt you...then prove it."

Mickey's eyes began to well with tears.

"Come with me. We'll make a new life, 'n we'll be friends. Maybe even...brothers?" Oswald gave the mouse a soft, genuine smile. "C'mon man. I know you're in there. I know you can hear me. 'N I know...things are hard. 'N things are scary. But we'll get through this together, alright?"

Oswald took a deep breath. "Things...things don't hafta be scary no more. We'll get through the hardest part together."

Mickey gazed at the rabbit's outstretched hand, hot tears blurring his vision.

"Promise...?" Mickey spoke in a shaky, hoarse voice.

"Promise."

And with that, Mickey grabbed the rabbit's hand and pulled him into a tight embrace. The mouse began to sob into Oswald's shoulder, his breaths shaky and caught within his throat, and he didn't dare to speak beyond those simple words. 

For a few long moments, the tears wouldn't stop flowing from Mickey's eyes. 

But something changed.

Mickey's sobs slowly bled into giggles, which only erupted into a twisted, morbid laugh- a sound that made Oswald's blood run cold the second it hit his ears.

It was the sound of the Blot.

Mickey delivered a quick swipe to the rabbit, to which Oswald narrowly avoided with a jolt backwards. With quick breaths, he looked down at the mouse, scrutinizing the grisly smile plastered upon his face.

"Oh, you are SOME kinda awful." Oswald hissed through gritted teeth. He was lucky he had his guard up, or the mouse could have--

Wait.

Amidst the silence, Oswald could hear a chilling noise. The sound of liquid plinking onto the stone floor.

The sound of ink melting off of his body.

With a shaky inhale, Oswald ran his hand down his torso, his fingertips desperately searching for any piece of himself he had lost. He hoped and prayed that he was fine, but he dared not to look. With a tight swallow, the rabbit brought his trembling hand not too far from his face, as he slowly got a look at his own fingers.

His fingertips were stained with a swirling mix of black and blue ink- the exact colors of his fur and shorts.

"Oh god." Oswald spoke in a shaky whisper, his eyes wide.

Oswald was falling apart.

The Thinner was melting him.

And for a long minute, the two stood in silence. Mickey had won, and the both of them knew it. But looking back at the mouse's awful expression, Oswald knew that he could not let his brother have that satisfaction. 

"No." Oswald spoke. "I...I WON'T die."

Oswald took a few limping steps down the balcony, leaving behind puddles of himself with every footstep.

"The Wasteland will live on."

He made his way to the spiraling staircase and took a few shaky steps downwards.

"I will live on."

And within a few seconds, Mickey watched as the rabbit disappeared into the hall below.

"I made a promise."

And that was the last thing Mickey heard of Oswald before peering over the balcony edge, and seeing the rabbit as nothing but a puddle of ink upon the hallway floor.

It went without saying that Thinner was a very powerful substance.

~

Everybody was looking to Gus, but he didn't know what to do. Oswald hadn't returned. Mickey was nowhere in sight. People were depending on the gremlin to save them.

And in a rushing calamity of stomping feet, Gus rushed everyone out of the castle. He hated to evacuate them again, but he knew he hadn't another choice. He knew Oswald was not coming back.

His stomach churned with the horrible realization that he would have to rule the Wastelanders, and that he would have to take the rabbit's metaphorical throne. He knew nobody else was going to. He had to be strong. He had to be brave.

But he swore that for a second- for a split second- he could see the silhouette of the Shadow Blot loom over Dark Beauty castle, with the distant echo of a rocket launch bellowing in the distance.

And in that moment he knew that the Wasteland would not last for much longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaaa thank you everyone who read this dumb little story!! :) i put a lot of my heart into this and epic mickey is a game that really means a lot to me, so thank you very much for reading!!


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